


One More Gift

by KBates



Category: Labyrinth (1986), Schneewittchen | Snow White (Fairy Tale), Sleeping Beauty (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Sarah, Birthday Wish, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Jareth, Elements of Sleeping Beauty, Elements of Snow White, F/M, Gothic feel, twisted fairy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 05:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13264404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KBates/pseuds/KBates
Summary: Summary: A fairytale told in three parts, The Wish, The Tale, and The Denouement. How Jareth helps Sarah celebrate her birthday. Inspired by the original stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Dark fairytale. Dark Jareth. Dark everything. And le sex. Gothic feel.Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth or associated characters.





	One More Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Annissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annissa/gifts).



> Story written for the Facebook Labyrinth fanfic group. Written in once sitting—three and a half hours. Story involves: cake, candles, present, and a wish. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Implied nonconsensual sex—I’d classify it as a psychosexual fairytale using Snow White as inspiration. 
> 
> Dedicated to Annissa for writing Ember and Ash, an awesomely dark retelling of Cinderella.

**The Wish**

I gaze at the man before me in wonder—completely mesmerized. I wonder how anyone can be such a paradox. How can someone so strange and otherworldly, ethereal, be so beautiful? He smiles and I scuttle back a bit—the usual reaction. The predatory sharpness of his teeth should have marred his beauty, but it doesn’t. He’s just as mesmerizing as ever—perhaps even more so.

“How are you today, my love?”

The deep baritone of his voice rings against my ears, enveloping me almost—hypnotizing me. I open my mouth to answer, but my voice dies out—another common reaction. My heart beats faster and my breaths grow deeper.

“Sarah?” A touch of concern flickers in his pale, unusual eyes. One pupil remains constantly dilated while the other sharpens. “How are you feeling?” There’s a singsong quality to his words—it lends a teasing disposition to his voice.

I give him a frail smile. “I’m alright.” But then I frown when I notice I’m in a sheer white nightgown—my room is lit dimly and a fire blazes in the fireplace. I feel lightheaded—and I realize I can’t recollect what I was doing before I fell asleep. “Was I sick?”

His smile only grows—he tilts his head, as if studying me. “Yes— _quite_. You’ve been…resting…for a long, long while, my love.” He moves forward and sits at the foot of my bed—eyes shining like polished glass as they remain fixed on mine. It feels as if he’s waiting for me to ask him something.

_But how could I have been so ill? I feel absolutely fine._

“Oh…” I reply, not knowing what to say, lost in a sea of confusion. “Have you been taking care of me—I guess I should thank you…”

Shaking his feathery head, he laughs—voice low and musical. “Never thank me, love. I shall always take care of you.” His eyes glow indulgently, the lines around his mouth soften.

I know his words are meant to soothe, but my frown only deepens as I suddenly realize I don’t remember his name. I remember _him_ —his face, the strangeness of his eyes and the icy coldness of his presence, but I don’t remember anything else. “Who are you?” I blurt out, eyes wide, a hot blush coloring my cheeks.

A shadow passes over his sharply beautiful face, but it disappears as quickly as it appears. “I…” he begins, tilting his kingly head—once again, studying my reactions, “I have many titles, my love.” He moves closer to me, helping me sit up so that my back is against the pillows arranged by the headboard. “Try and remember.”

I do as he says and screw my eyes shut, trying to rile up some memories— _any_ memory. But I only shake my head woefully. “I can’t.” The words come out as a whisper—I realize I’m afraid of disappointing him.

He grins in response—a grin that’s razor sharp. “Pity…” he murmurs, a gloved hand caressing my face. “I am King of the Goblins, King of Dreamers, but most importantly…” his gloved fingers slip below the neckline of my nightgown. “I am your beloved, Sarah…as you are mine.”

My mouth falls open, but my confusion remains. “Beloved…” I murmur back, my brows raised. “Sarah…?” My breath hitches as he slowly lowers the sleeves of my gown, exposing my breasts. “Is that my name?”

The sharpened ends of his teeth glint in the firelight. “Yes, my beloved,” he murmurs. “Sarah. _My_ Sarah…” his hands hold my face in place as he ghosts his lips over mine. I can feel his hot breath fan my lips…but he keeps his distance. “May I kiss you?”

Peering into his unnerving gaze, I nod my head, fighting against the urge to screw my eyes shut once again. His eyes are too intense…too heavy with emotion. I part my lips, my exposed nipples tighten, anticipating his kiss…but he only smiles.

Once again, I am left confused. “I thought—” I begin, but my words die out as his mouth seeks mine in a hungry kiss.

He isn’t gentle—his thin lips part mine forcefully and his hot tongue raids my mouth. The force of his kiss presses the back of my head against the wooden headboard of the bed and a hard knee wedges itself between my legs. I whimper in response—but my mouth moves against his, as if instinctively. My tongue wages war against his—my neck tilts at an angle, allowing him better access. Every thrust of his snakelike tongue makes my breasts ache with growing heaviness.

“Oh… _Sarah_ ,” he murmurs as he breaks the kiss to take a breath, his gloved hands now running up and down my arms. His cool lips trail down my neck—his expert hands lift the frail nightgown away from my body.

A feverish pulsing begins to take place in between my legs, and I part them by reflex. “Who are you?” I ask desperately, shrinking back as he smiles his predatory smile.

“I’ve already told you, sweet,” he rumbles, his eyes now fixated to the slick junction between my legs. His eyes take on a haunting expression, but he bares his teeth, as if ravenous. “Perhaps I should rekindle your memory, my love.” He holds my legs apart with a steel like grip, his eyes bore into mine—he keeps me arrested with his piercing gaze for a few moments before lowering his mouth to my center.

I moan as the tip of his snakelike tongue runs along the full length of my slit. “Please tell me your name,” I beg, another hoarse moan escaping my throat as he fucks me with his tongue in shallow thrusts. Sweat beads along my brow, the small of my back—my breathing grows hot and labored. My fingers thread into his feather-soft hair, urging him towards the pleasurable bundle of nerves that sits between my legs…but he is immovable. “Please,” I say—my voice a whimper and a whisper all at once, “…tell me who you are.”

The lilting sound of his laugh vibrates along the sensitive skin of my wet core, making my muscles twitch. “It’s your birthday today, Sarah,” he singsongs, his eyes hooked onto mine. “Allow me to give you a gift.” Saying that he pulls my legs apart with even more force as his lips latch onto my clit—his sharp chin presses against my entrance, inciting the need for penetration.

My eyes roll back into my head as I moan—but he doesn’t relent his leisurely pace—he keeps his ministrations slow and steady until I’m absolutely soaking with need. Just as I’m about to beg, he enters me with his fingers as he simultaneously suckles my clit, and I’m pushed over the edge. My orgasm washes over me in deep, rolling waves—it isn’t intense, but it is long and hard—it takes more than a few moments for the tremors to pass my body.

He looks up at me, an adoring glint to his strange eyes. “Happy birthday, Sarah,” he says, pulling up to kiss me once again, his movements absolutely serpentine.

 I shudder as I taste myself on his lips. “Jareth…” I whisper, as the name sifts through my mind. An odd sense of foreboding overtakes my chest, and my breathing deepens—as if I’m afraid. _But why should I be afraid? Hadn’t he said that he is my beloved and I am his?_ “Is that your name?”

In a flash of a second, his smile turns dangerous—his wolfish teeth on full display. “Is that all you remember, my love?”

I frown. “I suppose so.”

He gives me an elegant shrug. “Never mind that—as I said, it’s the day of your birth, my sweet,” he helps me into a silk robe that appears out of thin air and signals for something.

A woman dressed in a nondescript outfit comes into the room with a tray—on it sits a small cake with a single candle. She places the tray on the bed and leaves as quickly as she had appeared—she doesn’t glance even once at my direction—not even when I say thank you.

He laughs his luxurious laugh—voice reverberating against the stone walls of the room. “You don’t have to thank her, sweet Sarah—she is…required to serve you.” He hands me a knife, a playful smirk on his lips. “This is one of your traditions, I believe.”

Taking the knife tentatively, I peer at him—eyes wide. “One of my traditions?” I ask, repeating his words. _But what traditions?_

The playful smirk on his lips changes—a flash of triumph flickers in his strange eyes. “Yes—you’re supposed to blow out the candle and make a wish, my beloved.” His eyes narrow, as of focused on my every move.

 _Oh_ …I frown— _what a silly tradition_. But he looks so excited, as if he can’t wait until I make my wish, and so I comply. Closing my eyes by instinct, I murmur, “I wish I could remember everything,” and I blow out the lone candle.

The look in his eyes is frightening enough that I shrink back—the feral smile on his face makes my blood run cold. I try pulling away from him, but he holds my wrist in a vicelike grip. “I was hoping you’d say that, my love—let me tell you a story.”

\--

**The Tale**

There was once a young girl who made a terrible mistake—she gave away her screaming baby brother to the Goblin King—the Keeper of Dreams. Generously enough, he stepped in to ease her troubles, only to be met with resistance. The girl cried, she whined, she didn’t mean it. As annoying as her brother was, she didn’t want him gone _forever_. Just a little while so she could go back to putting on her makeup as perfectly as her beautiful mother.

As kind as he was generous, the King decided to issue a challenge— _solve my Labyrinth_ , he said, a realm born out of nightmares, _and I shall return the screeching infant_.

And so she did—she solved his Labyrinth, refused his wishes, and won her brother back. She won…

Unfortunately, in the process of winning the King’s challenge, she also won something else—something she hadn’t even asked for—the brutal force of the Labyrinth. Oblivious, the girl continued living her life while her powers grew to enormous heights.

The King raged. Hadn’t he given enough? How dare a mere mortal hold such power? He fell deeper and deeper into a blinding inferno of rage and wild magic. He constructed a magical mirror of the purest of mercury and obsessed with it every day.

“Mirror, mirror,” he thundered, “Who commands the Labyrinth?”

The mirror was always quick to respond, _you, my liege_.

Until one day, it didn’t.

Overcome with madness, the King decided to take matters into his own hands. He knew that while the girl may possess the power to command the Labyrinth, she hadn’t been trained to harness it. All he’d have to do is head to the mortal realm and end her existence.

Unbeknownst to the King, four mangy little creatures, born of the Labyrinth, had witnessed his growing insanity. Slipping into the mortal realm, they rescued the girl—who was no longer a girl, but a woman—and placed her deep within the forests of the Labyrinth.

The King grew more vicious as rage and wild magic overtook his heart—he searched the entire human realm for the girl, but couldn’t find her. And then a different sort of rage overtook him—had she died? How dare she die before returning his powers!?

The mortal woman took some time adjusting to forest life, but she grew to accept her fate. She cooked and cleaned and sewed clothes for her friends—she conversed with forest creatures, making friends with even the most vicious of the lot.

Word of her beauty reached far and wide…even the Castle at the Center of the Labyrinth…where it reached the ears of the mad King. He raged and raged—dark gray clouds amassed in the skies and soon, they gave way to wind and storm.

The storms lasted until the King was finally clear of mind—he knew what he had to do. Primarily, he’d have to deal with his subjects who’d kept the girl protected. Taking on a masked disguise of a mere beggar, he headed to the forest where the mortal woman lived. He scoffed derisively when he saw her hovel—the one she shared with her loyal band of miscreants. He couldn’t help but feel a woman of her caliber should live in luxury.

He was surprised when she treated him kindly and offered him a hot meal—he sat across from her, unable to tear his eyes away. The more time he spent in her presence, the more strongly he felt that she belonged with him…in his castle…and on his bed.

Before he left, he gave her four enchanted apples, telling her that they were strictly for her friends. The King laughed gleefully, wondering what she’d do when her friends fell into everlasting sleep—he couldn’t wait to whisk her away and…

He stayed lost in his fantasies for a long time until the shrill voice of the mirror grated against his ears.

 _My liege_ , the mirror said, _once more, you command the Labyrinth_.

The King howled in despair—that could only mean one thing.

Racing to the forest, the mighty King fell to his knees when he saw the sight of the mortal woman encased in a glass coffin. He clenched his fists with uncontained fury—hadn’t he told her those apples were for her friends? Stupid, stupid woman!

The four, loyal creatures made no effort to hide their rage and grief. _You killed her_ , they accused, _and now she will never wake up_.

The King didn’t even bother replying—with a wave of his hand, he banished them to the salt mines, before taking the mortal woman in his arms. A half-crazed smile overtook his face—she may be in everlasting sleep, but that wouldn’t stop him from having her.

\--

**The Denouement**

A look of horror and disgust mingles in her jade eyes as she scrambles back on the bed, holding the sheets to her chest in a protective gesture.

“Do you like having your memories back, my love?” he asks, a mocking lilt to his voice.

Sarah growls in response. Along with fear, she feels a massive amount of rage. “How long have I been here?”

A slow, cruel smile. “Feels like forever, my love, not long at all” he says with a wink. A soft knock on the mahogany doors interrupts him. “Enter.”

The look of horror and disgust only grows in Sarah’s eyes as a child enters the room—her face as pale as snow and her lips as red as blood. The child’s hair is dark shade of sable, not different from her own, and her eyes are a pale shade of jade. One pupil is unnaturally dilated.

“Happy birthday, mama!” The child says with a smile on her face. “I couldn’t think of what to get you, so I made this instead.” She hands over a delicate crown woven with wild flowers and silver thread. “Do you like it?”

Sarah opens her mouth to speak, but overwhelming memories play through her mind—rendering her mute.

_She sees herself, her inert body jerking roughly, as the obsessed King takes her—his face drawn tight in ecstasy and something akin to reverence. She sees her body grow with child—but her eyes remain shut, and her limbs frozen. She sees countless healers and wise women crowd around her immobile form as she gives birth—the cry of the child, mimics her own as she finally awakens._

Forcing herself to keep from screaming in terror, Sarah takes the crown. “Thank you,” she says, kissing the girl on her forehead. “It’s beautiful… Ileneira.” The name comes to her easily as bits and pieces of her memories return.

The King lifts the child away from her mother and kisses her on the temple. “Your mother is ill, Neira, she’s only just awoken” he says, using an affectionate nickname. “Head to your lessons.”

Ileneira nods glumly. “I hate lessons,” she grumbles, but she does not disobey her father. “Please tell me you’ll be well enough to have dinner with me, mama,” she says, peering at Sarah with wide eyes. “I’ve been alone for the last few nights.”

Swallowing a painful lump, Sarah nods. “I’ll make sure to be there.”

The child flashes her a bright smile and leaves the room—shutting the massive wooden doors behind her. The second the child leaves the room, Sarah starts shuddering violently as she holds her head in her hands. “You’re a monster,” she tells the King…who only smiles back.

Jareth runs a gloved hand down her hair indulgently. “Come now, my love,” he soothes, “You did promise Neira that you’d have dinner with her. I am busy, as always, and she’ll be alone should you…succumb to hysterics. I had to clear your memories after a particularly grating dramatic tantrum from you, and I would hate to do so again.” _But I will_ , remains unsaid.

Taking in a few deep breaths, she controls her emotions. “Get out,” she hisses. “I’ll pull myself together.”

The King smiles savagely as his eyes darken with the promise of violence. In one swift motion, he situates the mortal woman under him—his hands hold her wrists, and his knees keep her legs in place. “I have one more gift to give you, my love,” he whispers into her ear as his teeth nip her earlobe.

**Author's Note:**

> Incredibly dark, I know. I’ll counter it with a funny story (not funny for me, but you might find it funny).
> 
> When I’d gone out for the very first date with my H I didn’t know what to expect (we’re from TOTALLY different backgrounds)—but he annoyed the hell out of me. He was this super arrogant douche who thought he knew everything (still is—but thems my types, what can I do). By the time we were going to ask for the check, I’d labeled him a sexist (which he wasn’t/ isn’t – but I was irritated enough that I wanted to think he was sexist). 
> 
> I told him ‘I don’t think this counts as a date—we’re never going to go out again so I’ll split the bill with you.’ He was all ‘hahaha, I can get the check. You’re so crazy and entertaining.’ I saw red. RED. I told him ‘I’m a feminist, I don’t think you have to get the check because you’re a man and you find me entertaining.’ He only smiled—and when the waitress came with the check folder he told her ‘K’s a feminist, she’s going to pay the entire bill.’ The look on my face was probably hilarious as the waitress broke out in laughter. Then the entire staff behind the bar broke out in laughter.  
> Anyways, I paid bill. 
> 
> Jan is my birthday month and my wedding anniversary month (six years and no murders)—yay! I post random silly things from my life, aesthetic pics I like, Labyrinth stuff, Bowie stuff, on my tumblr account. Check it out if interested (handle: batesybates).


End file.
